A Good Deed
by markovgirl
Summary: He didn't want the monster to help him, he wanted him dead.
1. Chapter 1

Rain spattered against the concrete of the city, blurring the lights of the evening landscape. He liked it when it rained, but it did mean that few people remained in the streets and those that did were obscured by umbrellas and raincoats. He didn't see the issue - it was a warm summer, the rain was a pleasant change from the sweltering days they had been experiencing. He stretched his legs out over the edge of the building and sighed. Ikebukuro had been fairly quiet recently, much to his displeasure. There had been little activity on the forums he frequented, only a few messages from random girls he had been speaking to. He had been craving excitement, a little chaos - chaos was fun. But as there were no new leads and most of his usual targets were out of town for the holidays, he had gone searching for the wrong sort of fight.

Izaya knew he didn't have the physical strength of a lot of his opponents, he prided himself on his intelligence and agility. He didn't expect the gang he was playing with to have more members waiting in the shadows. The man ran a hand over the stab wound in his shoulder and coughed loudly, blood splattering down his chin. Escaping hadn't been too hard, he was faster than them, but he had already taken a number of hits before he lost them. The stab wound on his shoulder was by far the worst as the knife had been forced in up to the hilt and a few shallow slashes ran across his chest.

"Stupid," he muttered, under his breath.

Izaya let out a deep sigh and leaned back, so that he lay flat against the wet concrete with his calves dangling over the edge of the building. The rain fell softly against his face. It was a pleasant feeling as the shower was more like a fine mist than a torrent. Peace was not his chosen environment but he had to admit it was nice every now and then. Perhaps he should just sleep here, with the cool water spraying his face, his blood warm on the concrete and the sounds of the city surrounding him. Izaya yawned and tried to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth - how long had it been since he'd slept, it must have been a few days. He didn't like sleeping, it took up precious time, time that could be spent weaving webs. He would often sleep fitfully, jerking awake at the slightest sound for fear of people invading his home. As much as he would like to think he was something greater, Izaya was only human and sometimes sleep, deep and undisturbed, was needed. The burn in his shoulder began to numb - he wasn't certain if it was the rain or the loss of blood. He didn't want to die but if he had to, this rooftop wasn't too bad a place. A small voice told him that he should stop pretending that he was a godlike figure, he was human, he was bleeding, he was alone. A pathetic, weak, friendless figure, dying on top of an unknown building in the rain. Izaya smiled wearily - _he really really hoped he wouldn't die._

Somewhere, far away in the distance, a noise rang out. It must have been loud as he heard it vaguely over the great distance. As Izaya felt himself drifting into darkness, eyes closing tiredly, he mused over the noise. It sounded like a lion, he thought, like a lion roaring...

The lion approached quickly and its shadow moved over the form of the brunette. Shizuo Heiwajima raised a smoking cigarette to his lips and took a harsh drag. The soft mist of rain had saturated his bartender's uniform so that it clung tightly to his skin and his shaggy blonde hair lay slick on his forehead. The cigarette fizzled out, much to his annoyance, so he flicked it off the building. The blonde's usual rage was mildly muted, having spent most of the afternoon and evening holed up in his favourite bar, though that was not to say that the sight of the bloodied informant didn't send a strong feeling of anger through him. It had been a rough week. Tom had been at the receiving end of a frantic individual who wouldn't pay back the debt they had come to collect and Shizuo blamed himself entirely, as he had been too busy beating the individual's henchmen within an inch of their lives to notice. Tom was recovering in the hospital and doing fine, but that didn't make him feel any better.

He needed to learn to control his temper as he tended to get lost in the rage. So far he'd managed to quell his anger by funnelling beer and whiskey into his body until he passed out. He scowled down at Izaya and tilted his head to one side. The flea looked sickly, thin and was saturated with blood that poured from various wounds on his body. He didn't care about the man's well being but he couldn't help but notice his worse-for-wear condition. He knew that Izaya didn't take care of himself but he never expected he would find him like this - he must have had a run in with one of his many enemies. Shizuo raised his foot above the man's head. Slowly, he lowered it so that the sole of his shoe was pressed against the informant's pale, hollow cheek. The urge to make the smaller man suffer was nearly overwhelming.

"Izaya," he hissed, applying slight pressure to his head. He smirked - he could kill the other man if he so desired, it would be so simple. Even through his bleary, drunk haze, Shizuo knew that was not the kind of act he wished to commit. Slowly, he removed his foot and settled it next to Izaya's head. The blonde let out an irritated grunt and swiftly kicked the man's skull - he wouldn't let the flea get off that easily, even if he wasn't going to kill him.

"Agh - fuck!" Izaya yelped, rolling onto his side. He clutched his head and hissed in pain as he sat upright to look at his attacker. When he caught sight of the ex-bartender looming above him, he gave him a toothy grin. He clutched his shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding. "Shizu-chan, what a pleasant surprise."

"Shut it," the other man snarled, feeling fire burn in his chest even from the few words he had spoken. It was easier to quell his rage when Izaya was silent. "What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay away."

Izaya clambered to his feet, rubbing his eyes with his hands to remove the water that had pooled there. He placed his free hand in his pocket and ran his fingers over his flick-knife. He couldn't help the slight feeling of relief that washed over him. Izaya knew he was physically weaker than Shizuo and in his already-injured state he was an easy target. He was intellectually superior, faster and more agile, but he needed time to plan out his moves. Waking to see those hate-filled eyes staring down at him sent a pang of fear through him - he needed to get away before the other man lost control and tore him to shreds. He was surprised that he was still breathing.

"I fancied a trip into the city," Izaya replied, pulling his hood over his head with one hand. He eyed Shizuo up and down - he was unusually collected and his eyes were hazy. The brunette frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"Fuck off," Shizuo grunted. He observed the man for a moment longer, taking in the stab wound on his shoulder and the bruises that circled his eyes. Against his better judgement, he turned away from Izaya and began to head toward the iron staircase that led to the alleyway below them. "Go home before I change my mind and stamp on your fuckin' head."

Izaya watched silently as the blonde started to head down the stairwell. Why was he acting so strangely? If this had been any other day, Shizuo would have been in one of his usual tempers. He didn't like this, he didn't want any sympathy from the monster. The informant scowled and strode after him, removing his flick-knife from his pocket. If Shizuo didn't make the first move, he would, even if he was bleeding profusely. He moved forward sluggishly and shoved his hand against the ex-bartender's back, causing him to trip down the first flight of metal steps. Shizuo had barely hit the landing before he swung back around and pushed himself back up the stairs, his carefully controlled anger finally rearing its ugly head.

"Iz-a-ya!" he snarled, viciously. Before the smirking informant could react, the ex-bartender clamped a large hand over his face and dig his fingers into his skull. Izaya let out a loud yell as he was thrown across the rooftop. He fell silent when his body hit the brick wall of the building next door and he fell down to the roof, legs collapsing underneath him. Shizuo took in a shaky breath and stomped toward the other man's fallen form, trying his best to quell his rage.

"Stupid flea," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "Can't fuckin' leave me alone, can ya?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. The other man didn't respond. Shizuo scowled and tutted under his breath. Izaya was slumped against the wall, limbs splayed out around him like a rag doll, unmoving. A thin stream of blood ran down the side of his face and joined the much larger shoulder wound which dripped onto the floor, where it was slowly diluted by the thin rain. His flick-knife lay at his side, shining and useless.

"Oi," Shizuo called, nudging the man's leg with his shoe. He didn't move, so he kicked him a little harder. Still nothing. The blonde crouched down and placed his forefinger against Izaya's drooping head so that he could push it upright. It lolled backward against the wall, revealing closed eyes and an open mouth. Thick, dark blood dripped from between his lips and down his chin. Shizuo moved his hand down so that he could check Izaya's pulse. It was slow, but clear. When he began to inspect the stab wound near his collarbone, he frowned - why was he even bothering? He despised Izaya, he had often proclaimed a desire to slaughter the man. So why wasn't he? Izaya was out-cold, an easy target and yet he found that he didn't want to kill him. He didn't want to kill him _when he was already dying._ Shizuo grinned, pleased he wasn't going soft. With a sigh, he heaved the informant over his shoulder and found himself surprised by how light he was.

"C'mon flea," he drawled, as he made his way toward the staircase. "I'll make sure you don't die so I can kill you later."

-0-

Shizuo leaned back in his armchair and placed a newly-lit cigarette into his mouth. As he took a deep drag, he cracked open a fresh beer and observed the crumpled body on the sofa opposite. He had debated whether or not to take the informant to Shinra, but decided against it to save face. It turned out that the doctor was away at a conference according to his answerphone message, so he wouldn't have been much help regardless. It wouldn't do his reputation any good if people starting thinking he was going soft on Izaya. They might think he _cared._ If he dropped Izaya off at the hospital they would probably arrest him, thinking it had been the result of one of their famed fights rather than someone else's doing.

The blonde let out a stream of smoke and took a long swig of beer, head already hazy from an entire afternoon of drinking. The informant had been out-cold for an entire day, so it was now around five o'clock and the sun was beginning to shirk away from the sky. He'd patched up Izaya's shoulder as best he could - using vodka to clean the injury and an ace bandage hastily wound around it to stem the bleeding. Shizuo grimaced as he continued to gulp down large quantities of beer. He had to remove Izaya's shirt so that he could get to it, which hadn't been a pleasant experience for him. The informant had been far more beaten up than he expected. A number of large bruises were dotted across his torso and a black, swollen area on his side suggested that a few ribs had been broken. Shizuo decided to wait until the other man woke before offering an ice pack.

Izaya had always seemed so indestructible, Shizuo thought, tapping his cigarette. Ash fell onto the floor, sullying an already sullied floor. Yet here he was, half-dead, on his sofa. The blonde chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief - the informant was human, just like the rest of them. _Us,_ he corrected himself. He clamped his fist around the empty beer-can as easy as squeezing butter and threw it into the bin in the corner of the room. Perhaps years of being called a monster were getting to him. He grunted at the thought and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table.

He stood up from the armchair and moved to the kitchen counter to get another beer. What was his plan after Izaya woke up, he thought, pulling a can from the box. Should he kick him out into the night, tell him to go home? Maybe he should take him to the hospital whilst he's still out-cold and run before the staff see him. Or, let him stay here. Shizuo frowned and leaned against the counter so that he could look down at the injured man, trying to make sense of his confused thoughts. He hated him, oh boy, how he hated him - so what was this unusual pang of sympathy he felt when he looked at him? Izaya looked so small, Shizuo thought he could probably snap him in two with little to no effort.

He shook his head and opened the beer in his hand. It couldn't be sympathy, he thought, surely he was just annoyed because he wanted to be the one to kill the flea. That had to be it! He flopped back down in the armchair and lit another cigarette.

"Wh-what?"

Shizuo glanced up to see Izaya stirring. The brunette flinched when he opened his eyes, seeing the blonde staring back at him. He went to sit up but a shot of pain ran through his body, causing him to hiss.

"I wouldn't try an' move if I were you," Shizuo commented, amused. The informant ignored him and tried to sit up again, gasping loudly when he failed. "Actually, carry on, s'funny."

Izaya glared at him, gritting his teeth in pain as he laid back down. It was only when he felt the fabric of the sofa scratch against his back did he realise he was half-naked. "Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"They were covered in crap, so I put them in the sink," he answered, jamming his thumb toward the kitchen area that was joined to the living room. "You can thank me later."

"I wasn't planning on thanking you at all," Izaya responded, irritably. "I presume by the disgusting smell and the mess that we are in your apartment."

"Right you are," he said, letting out a cloud of smoke. Shizuo was rather enjoying himself - the other man's discomfort was obvious. Seeing Izaya so weak and exposed made it quite clear that he was entirely at the blonde's mercy. It was almost as satisfying as landing a punch on him, he thought. "You've been out for an entire day, flea. There was me thinkin' you might not wake up."

Izaya tentatively raised a hand and ran his fingers over the bandage on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side so he could look at Shizuo. "Did you do this?"

The blonde hesitated, then raised the cigarette to his lips, took in a deep drag and nodded.

The informant furrowed his brow and let his hand fall back by his side. "It's sloppy work."

"I never claimed to be a doctor," Shizuo hissed, narrowing his eyes. He took a sip of his drink and then stretched both his arms over the back of the chair. "Shoulda just let you bleed to death."

"Why didn't you?" Izaya asked, blankly. He kept his expression impassive, he didn't want to let the other man see that he was unnerved. Shizuo was his enemy, a violent monster who he hated with a passion - why was he here, in his home, being cared for by him? _Cared._ Even the thought of the word made him boil with anger. To his surprise, the blonde just shrugged at him and continued to blow smoke at him.

"Dunno," he answered, sounding rather subdued. Izaya pointedly coughed at him, which he ignored. He knew the flea hated cigarettes. "I guess I want to be the one to kill you."

"I see," the brunette replied, turning his head back up to the ceiling. His anger settled a little upon hearing that answer. "Why don't you kill me now?"

"Wouldn't be a fair fight," he laughed, though the laugh sounded forced. "You're pitiful at the moment, it would be like punching a kitten."

Izaya scowled. "'Pitiful'? I don't want your pity, monster."

"Can you just shut up?" Shizuo snapped, clenching his fist at the insult. He stood and moved into the kitchen. Izaya tried to see what he was doing, but couldn't sit up far enough.

"Shizu-chan?" he called, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. The other man was acting so abnormally, it was off-putting, he had no idea what to expect. "What're you - ugh!"

The informant let out a winded gasp when a bag of ice landed on his bare torso. He let out a yelp and pushed it onto the floor as Shizuo moved into his field of vision, clearly amused.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he growled, wiping his hands over his chest. He accidentally pressed down on the swollen hematoma that had risen over his ribs and let out a harsh cry when pain wracked his torso. "Shit-"

"Ice pack," Shizuo replied, flicking his cigarette away. He crouched down next to Izaya, picked up the bag of ice and started to wrap it in a tea-towel. When he moved to place it on the swollen area, the other man started to protest. The blonde rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue derisively. "Look, you got a bunch of broken ribs here, Izaya."

"I'm fine," he snarled in response, pushing Shizuo's hand away from him. He didn't want this, he felt pathetic and weak.

Shizuo growled under his breath and grabbed ahold of his flailing wrist, pinning it to the sofa beside his head. Izaya tried to lash out with his free hand, but was halted by the pain caused by his protesting limbs. He went limp and tears of anger started to pool in the corner of his eyes. Shizuo raised an eyebrow but didn't let go of his wrist.

"Calm down," he ordered, gruffly. "I'm gonna put this on, or else you'll be in too much pain to move. You want to leave as soon as possible, don't cha?"

Izaya paused and looked away from the other man. "Yes."

"So truce for tonight, okay?" he said. Izaya remained silent, so he reached forward and grabbed the man's chin with his free hand so that he could turn his head back toward him. The informant hissed as the blonde's fingers dug into his skin. He glared down at him dangerously and leaned forward. Izaya flinched, his usual confidence suddenly absent. The other man was too close, he could smell the alcohol on his breath. "We can go back to trying to kill each other tomorrow. For now, stop testin' me."

Shizuo let go of his face so that he could move the ice-pack onto Izaya's torso. The smaller man let out a sharp gasp and the blonde held the pack firmly when the other writhed in pain.

"O-okay," Izaya gasped, gritting his teeth as the ice started to affect the swollen area. The break in his ribs was making it difficult to breathe easily, so he tried to calm himself. When he steadied his breathing, he glanced back at Shizuo, who was staring at the ice pack blankly.

"How is it?" Shizuo asked. He pulled the wrist he was holding forward and placed the other man's hand over the ice-pack. The blonde stood and moved back to the armchair, grabbing his beer on the way.

Izaya grunted uncomfortably. "It hurts, what do you think?"

Shizuo chuckled and placed another cigarette in his mouth. "How'd you end up stabbed, anyway?"

"I misread the situation," he answered, after a pause. "More of them than I expected."

"Idiot," he chided, flicking open his lighter. As he raised the flame to his lips, he noticed Izaya glaring at him. "What?"

"Do you ever stop smoking?" he asked, wincing as he adjusted the ice pack.

"No, why?"

"It's disgusting. Your insides are probably black as tar."

"So are yours."

Izaya smirked. "Touche."

Shizuo grinned back for a brief moment before both men realised they were smiling and switched to scowling. The blonde took a drag of his smoke and tapped the ash onto the floor.

"I'm starving," Izaya replied. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and retrieved his wallet, which he then threw toward Shizuo. "Use my card, it's contactless."

"Huh?" the blonde replied, frowning.

"Go get food. It's the least I can do," the informant answered, smirking. "After all, you've been so hospitable."

Shizuo scowled at his sarcastic tone and tucked the wallet into his jeans. "Whatever, flea."

"Something soft and easy to eat," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I doubt you're the best cook, so takeaway would be perfect."

"Fine," Shizuo replied. He would have argued if he didn't know the statement to be entirely true. The blonde usually survived on instant noodles and burnt toast. "Stay here."

"I can't move."

"You know what I mean, asshole."

Izaya chuckled. He held out his free hand as the blonde started to move, halting him. "Do you have anything to drink?"

Shizuo looked toward the kitchen. "Uh, yeah-"

"Something stronger than beer?"

The ex-bartender smirked and reached into the cupboard beneath the counter in order to retrieve an unlabelled bottle of rum. "Rum, okay?"

Izaya pursed his lips. "Rum?"

"I like rum."

"It'll do for now. Get some nicer whiskey or something."

"How nice is nice?"

"Something with a label on it?" Izaya retorted, as Shizuo handed him the bottle. He looked at it disdainfully. "Jeez, you really are a monster with no taste, aren't you?"

"Do you want me to kill you?" he hissed, clenching his fist. He turned away from the smug, pale face that he hated so much and grit his teeth together. It would do no good to lash out in anger now and looking at him made him only stoked the fire.

Izaya hummed lightly, pleased to see that he was finally provoking a reaction from the other man. "I would rather you didn't. It would be a shame to die in a filthy place such as this."

Shizuo swallowed thickly and grabbed his packet of cigarettes from the coffee table. He glanced at the man on his sofa and crossed the room to the front door. He muttered under his breath as he pulled on a jacket. "Stupid fuckin' flea, shoulda thrown you off that building."

The informant chuckled to himself as the blonde slammed the door shut behind him but winced soon after as the movement elicited a sharp pain in his side. He sighed and repositioned the ice pack again. What trouble this was, he thought. He closed his eyes tiredly. Rest and recuperation were necessary or he could cause himself permanent damage. Namie was out of town, so he couldn't call her to pick him up and his sisters were never an option. He scrunched his eyes together harder and groaned inwardly. Although the surface wounds would heal quickly, the internal injuries were cripplingly painful and he doubted that he would be able to move without great effort for a couple of days. Effort that he was too exhausted to even consider. He relaxed his facial muscles and licked his dry lips. If Shizuo was going to kill him, he would have done it by now. Izaya didn't understand the blonde's reasoning and he certainly wasn't going to be grateful for the assistance, but he would concede that Shizuo's timely appearance on the rooftop had probably saved his life. The thought of the other man being his saviour made him feel sick.

Izaya opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as a smile started to form on his lips. He would stay until he was certain he had enough strength to move efficiently. After that, he would repay the blonde's good deed by slitting his throat whilst he slept. The monster would probably be grateful to be put out of his misery.

 _Part two soon._


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Shizuo returned, Izaya had fallen asleep. The blonde decided not to wake him immediately and busied himself with washing up plates and cutlery for the food. He poured himself a glass of the scotch he had bought at Izaya's request - top shelf, very expensive. As the informant himself had said, _it was the least he could do._ Shizuo grinned and took a large gulp of the amber liquid, letting out a satisfied sigh when he felt the sweet burn of high-quality alcohol roll over his tongue. As he drank, he leaned against the counter and observed the flea. It was hard to reconcile his usual image of the indestructible, evil creature with the the mangled thing that was splayed out on his sofa. If it hadn't been for the slow rising and falling of his chest, Shizuo might have believed that the man had been dropped from a great height and hadn't survived. His expression was more placid than usual but didn't reflect peace, even in sleep. His brows were slightly furrowed and his lips were slightly parted and drawn down into a frown. Shizuo wondered if Izaya had ever had a moment of heartsease. He imagined that the informant enjoyed his tumultuous life, though he couldn't understand it. The blonde longed for calm, ease, he longed for the constant rage-filled voices in his head to quieten. He settled the glass next to him on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. What kind of life was Izaya's? Friendless, loveless, his only aim to cause havoc. He was frantic, never satisfied, never stopping. He must be lonely. Perhaps that was why he never stayed still, perhaps peace made his solitude glaringly obvious. The blonde frowned and plucked a cigarette from his top pocket, lighting it quickly and shoving it in his mouth.

Shizuo knew what it was like to be lonely. His immense strength and violent nature forced even his close friends to keep him at arm's length. Despite this, he desperately wanted companionship, close friends, lovers - but he was too afraid to hurt them. A long plume of smoke erupted from between his scowling lips. He didn't like the idea of having anything in common with the informant. After another moment of staring angrily at the wounded man, he turned and poured another glass of whiskey before refilling his own. He crossed the room and nudged Izaya's leg with his knee.

"Oi," he grunted, shaking him again. The brunette didn't move. "Wake up, flea."

Izaya groaned and his eyes fluttered open. He looked confused for a moment, until he saw Shizuo glaring down at him, a glass of whiskey extended in offering.

"Shizu-chan," he yawned, rubbing his eyes to clear away the sleep.

"Stop calling me that," the larger man grumbled, settling the glass on Izaya's chest as if he were a table.

He grinned and placed his fingers lightly around the rim. "You know I'm still going to, why bother asking?"

Shizuo shrugged and took a seat in the armchair opposite. He took a short, sharp sip of his drink. "Dunno. Guess I was hoping you'd gimme a break after I saved your worthless neck."

Izaya chuckled and gulped down a large quantity of his drink. He sighed, happily. "Delicious. Commendable choice."

"I jus' bought the most expensive thing in the store."

"Heh, predictable," Izaya replied, lowering the glass until it was on the floor in front of the sofa. "Enjoy the taste of the good life, monster. It'll probably be the only time you get to experience it."

Shizuo scoffed and drained his glass. "My life is better than yours, asshole."

"You think?" he replied, amused. "I live in a high-end apartment, money is not an obj-"

"Material shit aside, what do you have?" the blonde snorted, retrieving the bottle from the coffee table so he could refill his glass. He looked over at Izaya, who was staring blankly back. "Jack shit. Who do you have?"

Izaya seemed to hesitate, then a wide, fake smile stretched across his face. "I've got all my precious humans."

Shizuo scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Don't kid yourself, flea. You'll never have _any_ of them, cos you're not one of them."

The informant's smile fell. "What?"

"C'mon, you ain't got any friends, your family hate you, hell, people who don't even know your name want you dead," he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette. He looked down into his glass, not wanting to look at the informant's flat, empty expression any longer. "You can hang around with your 'humans' all you want, but you won't ever fit in. They'll never accept someone like you as one a' them."

Izaya was silent for a while, staring past Shizuo as if he wasn't there. Eventually, he turned his head up toward the ceiling. He spoke softly, a voice Shizuo knew was dangerous. "And yet they spend time with a monster like you."

The blonde stiffened. "I'm not a monster."

"And I'm not a flea," Izaya murmured. He turned his head back and his dark eyes bore into Shizuo's. "Why do they accept you so readily while I am shunned? I love them, you do nothing but destr-"

"Love," Shizuo laughed, shaking his head. "I think your definition is skewed."

Izaya frowned. "No it's n-"

"Seriously, that's fucked up," the bartender said, still chuckling to himself. He grinned, his tone mocking. "I bet you never get laid."

The brunette's eyes narrowed and Shizuo noticed his fist clenched at his side. Interesting, he thought, that seemed to hit a nerve.

"If we're going to have a girl's night in gossiping about our sex lives, Shizu-chan, I'm going to need some more alcohol and some chocolate," Izaya hissed, venom lacing his tone.

Shizuo snorted. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and smiled, eyes glinting playfully. "Virgin."

Izaya moved quickly for a wounded man, picking up the glass he had settled on the floor and throwing it at the blonde's head. He dodged it swiftly and it smashed on the wall behind him. Shizuo stood, letting out an irritated growl.

"Watch it, flea! For fuck's sake!"

"I hate you, you stupid proto-"

"That's it!"

Shizuo flung himself over the table, knocking his glass of whiskey onto the floor, where it spilled and stained the carpet. Izaya screeched when the blonde gripped his shoulder and flipped him onto the floor, straddling his waist and taking the other man's throat in his large palm. The brunette tried to scratch his chest but ended up grabbing fistfuls of his sweater with one hand, whilst the other was pinned beside his head.

"Stop fucking testing me you little cunt," Shizuo seethed, squeezing the other man's throat warningly. "I thought you didn't want to die here."

"Get off me!" Izaya responded, nearly spitting in the blonde's face. His body was in agony from the rough treatment and it brought tears to his eyes.

"Izaya, I swear - stop fucking moving or I will end up strangling you," Shizuo growled, desperately trying to restrain himself. As he looked down at his enemy, as he felt his strangely lithe body writhing between his thighs, he felt something out of place, something that made the hand on the other man's throat loosen slightly. Izaya started coughing violently and a foul splatter of blood flew from his mouth and hit Shizuo's cheek.

"Get...get off," he wheezed, now clutching at the other man's shirt in desperation, as if he needed something to hold on to to stop himself from going under. "I-I-"

"Fuck," Shizuo mumbled, letting go of the man's neck and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees up so his weight was no longer pressed onto his body. He wiped the blood off Izaya's chin with his thumb. "Calm down, breathe."

The smaller man seemed to be unable to take a complete breath, each intake was a struggle. There was one, two, then the brunette gasped and his breathing slowed. Shameful tears streamed down his reddened cheeks from watery, hate-filled eyes. His hands still clutched Shizuo's shirt tightly.

"Breathe, Izaya," the blonde said, in as soothing tone as he could manage. "There we go."

"Get off," Izaya panted, cringing in pain. Shizuo could already see bruises blossoming as red stains on his throat. He was so much stronger than he intended to be, it was a surprise he hadn't completely crushed Izaya's windpipe. "You're...you're hurting m-me."

Shizuo narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer, only a breath away from the brunette's cheek. He wanted to make his point clear, he wanted the other man to _listen._

"Weak," he hissed, lip curling into a smirk. "Aren't you?"

"No," Izaya replied, hoarsely. He turned his head so that he looked straight in his eye. At this proximity, with the other's warm, sinewy body so close to his own, the informant too felt something strangely out of place, something that intrigued and disgusted him.

As the strange thought struck the both of them, they stared closely at one another, until Shizuo turned his head and sighed. He pushed himself off Izaya and knelt so that he could tuck his hands underneath the other man's knees and shoulders. Izaya protested as he was hoisted into the air and his breath was knocked out again.

"W-what," he wheezed, trying to hold back from coughing. "What are you doing?"

"You can eat in the morning, flea," Shizuo said, gruffly. He held onto the struggling creature in his arms tightly so he wouldn't fall. "You're obviously tired an' I'm just gonna hurt you further if you stay out here."

"I don't want to sleep in your bed, you pig!" Izaya wailed, nearly incoherent from the mixture of panic and pain. "Put me down, now!"

Shizuo pushed opened his bedroom door with his shoulder and dropped the informant onto his bed, his fall softened by the many layers of blankets that covered the mattress. The smaller man keened as his ribs protested at the treatment and his body began to tremble again. The blonde eyed him carefully, uncertain of how to proceed. He didn't want a dead Izaya on his hands tonight, not while he was half-drunk and hungry.

"Do you want anything?" he asked, quietly.

Izaya had managed to slow his breathing and glanced sideways at his enemy. "Just fuck off and let me sleep."

"Fine by me."

"I like to lie in so don't disturb me until I disturb you."

"I have work early any-," Shizuo paused, remembering the gunshot that had pierced his friend's flesh. "Ah, no I don't."

"You have a job?" Izaya snorted, rudely. He winced as he adjusted himself so his head rested on a pillow. "Colour me surprised. I thought I managed to get you fired from all your jobs, I must try harder."

"Shut up, flea," he answered, coldly. Shizuo crossed the room and flung open a drawer, so that he could rummage through the contents. He turned and threw an old t-shirt at Izaya. "There, if you get cold or whatever."

"Is this yours?" the informant sneered, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Burn it when you're done with it," Shizuo grumbled, heading for the door.

"It looks a little big," Izaya mocked, dropping it back onto the bed. "Plus, I'd rather wear a shirt that was on fire than one that had touched you."

The blonde growled and slammed the door to the bedroom shut behind him, muffling the sound of Izaya's breathy laughter. His only solace was the knowledge that laughing would hurt the other man's lungs in his current condition. Shizuo walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey, choosing to drink straight from it rather than another glass.

"Shoulda killed him, I shoulda fucking killed him," he chanted to himself, over and over, until he calmed down. Shizuo grabbed a bag of potato chips, switched on the TV and settled on the armchair. He had to get his mind off the arrogant prick who was currently in his bed or he would drive himself to frustration. Nothing else to do but get drunk of his mind and watch cartoons, he thought, uncorking the bottle.

-0-

Izaya couldn't sleep. He wasn't certain if it was the smell of the monster on the sheets or the pain, but he had spent the last two hours staring at the ceiling, half-listening to the sound of the television in the room next-door. Shizuo was either watching a comedy, or he was drunk, as rowdy laughter repeatedly sounded much to the informant's annoyance. The clock on the wall told him it was eight-fifteen and his stomach was growling. He tried to ignore the quiet gurgles coming from his abdomen - he didn't want to have to ask _him_ for food. The man scowled and wondered if he should just storm out, steal some food and the whiskey and lock himself in the bedroom. The cool of the summer evening was starting to sink into his skin and for a moment he considered donning the t-shirt that had been left for him, though he quickly abandoned that thought. Ridiculous! That he should have to wear the rags of a monster.

His mind drifted to Shizuo, to the odd moment he experienced earlier. The monster had been so warm. From that close proximity the smell of cigarettes had been pleasant as it was mixed with the earthy scent of the blonde's cologne and the rich alcohol on his breath. Even with that vicious look on his face, he was physically attractive, that was undeniable. Perhaps that was the reason people seemed to gravitate toward him - his pleasing features, his open demeanor. Shizuo was honest, if nothing else - he'd never attempted to hide his feelings for the informant, his hatred there was clear. The monster was so obvious, so easy to read - which is why he had seen the odd glint in his eye when he had called him _weak._ Izaya swallowed thickly - why was he thinking about the stupid animal like that? There was _nothing_ attractive about him.

A peal of raucous laughter shattered his peace once again, causing a vein to throb in his forehead. He would kill that idiot if it was the last thing he did. Pain shot down his side and he let out a grunt. Being tossed around the room like a ragdoll had surely worsened his injuries. He peered down at the hematoma on his side and grimaced - he hoped that it wasn't bleeding internally, that would be inconvenient. His stomach grumbled again, louder this time. Izaya frowned and slowly began to push himself upright, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Everything hurt, every moment was agony.

With a pained grunt, the informant stood, his arms hugging his torso tightly as if his organs would spill out. It took great effort, but he managed to reach the door and kick it open. Shizuo was lounging in the armchair, legs hanging off one side, a bag of crisps in his lap. If he was surprised to see the other man awake, it didn't show.

"What do you want, flea?" he asked, scowling. He took a swig of whiskey from the bottle and wiped his lips with his sleeve.

Izaya remained silent, just staring at him. Shizuo noted the way his shoulders were shaking slightly - clearly he was cold but refusing to wear the shirt he gave him. The blonde looked back at the television, starting to get a little creeped out by the way he was staring. It wasn't his problem.

"I'm hungry," the brunette said, at last. He leaned against the doorframe and let out a deep breath. "I want food."

"Fridge," Shizuo responded, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

Izaya frowned. "Aren't you going to get it for me?"

"Nope."

"I can barely move."

The blonde raised the whiskey to his lips and chuckled. "Not my problem."

"Yes it is," the informant snapped, surprised by how whiny his tone was coming out. "You made my injuries worse."

"So?"

"So?" Izaya hissed, his cheeks flushing the more irritated he grew. "So go make me some fucking food."

Shizuo grinned, much to the other man's surprise. He set the bottle on the floor and turned his body so that he could swing his feet back onto the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his chin drop onto his hand.

"Say please, you little brat."

"In your dreams," Izaya balked and rolled his eyes. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and started to move slowly across the living room toward the kitchen. The man was visibly in great pain and after only a few steps he started to wheeze.

Shizuo sighed and got to his feet, walking over to the informant and halting his progress. He leaned down to the other's height so that he could look him in the eye. Izaya winced uncomfortably and stepped back on one foot, trying to expand the distance between them.

"Say please, Iz-a-ya," the blonde chuckled, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. He wanted to break the crippled man completely.

Izaya opened his mouth, then closed it again silently. He hated the way the monster sang his name in that deep baritone of his. He glared at the other for a moment before taking in a rattled breath. "Please."

"Good. We might make a decent person out of you, yet," the blonde smirked and stood upright. He laid a hand on an uninjured portion of collarbone and pushed the informant backward. "Sit down."

As the brunette made his way slowly toward the sofa, Shizuo set about the kitchen. He placed the takeaway curry he had picked up into the oven and poured a bag of rice into a pan. The sound of crunching drew his attention back to Izaya. He had finally taken a seat on the sofa and was watching Shizuo, one hand clutching the bottle and the other in the bag of chips. He had a unusually happy smile on his face.

"I love Dortios," he said, raising a chip to his mouth and happily munching it down. It hurt to swallow slightly, but he was so hungry he ignored the pain. "Do you really need to use a whole bag of rice?"

"I eat a lot," the blonde replied, turning the hob onto a low heat.

"Predictably," Izaya replied. He took a sip from the bottle and gulped as the liquid burned his throat. "How did you manage to drink half a litre of this?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. He grabbed a beer and moved across the room, back to his armchair.

"Well, you don't seem wasted," Izaya commented, shaking his head. "I'd be on the floor."

Shizuo chuckled lightly and rested his cheek on his fist. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You're acting normal," Shizuo mumbled, cracking open his beer.

"You say that as if-"

"As if you're not normal? No, you're a freak, Izaya. You must know that."

The informant glared at him and took another sip of whiskey. He winced slightly at the taste. "Why do you hate me?"

Shizuo raised his eyebrows. "Do you even have to ask?"

Izaya nodded and lowered the bottle to the ground. He was only a small man and thus his tolerance for alcohol was rather low. Even the few gulps he had taken were going straight to his head. "Yeah, what have I done?"

"Aside from constantly tryin' to ruin my life?" Shizuo growled. The informant looked at him through bleary eyes and smiled. "You're an awful person, Izaya. You lie, cheat and steal to get your own way and you've hurt so many. An' I don't even know what your end goal is with all this. I think you just like fuckin' with people."

"True enough," the brunette replied, maneuvering his body carefully so that he was stretched out on the sofa, with his head resting against one of the arms.

"Bastard," Shizuo spat, brows furrowing in anger.

"You're hardly any better," Izaya responded, turning his head so he could smile at Shizuo. He could tell the other man was seething from the way his hands shook around his beer. "You've hurt people too, people who didn't deserve it. And that wasn't even for your own enjoyment, that was just because you're incapable of controlling yourself. What a disappointment you must be to the stupid people who like you."

Shizuo pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself. When he opened his eyes, Izaya could see pain. He liked that look on the blonde, it sent a pleasant flutter through his stomach. The monster deserved to suffer and he was more than happy to be the one to deal the hurt.

"Well, here we are," Shizuo sighed, holding out his beer. "The most hated people in the city."

Izaya smiled wryly and inclined his head. He lifted the bottle of whiskey with a slight grunt of pain. "Perhaps we deserve this personal hell we've created for one another."

The blonde took a sip of his drink and shrugged, tiredly. "It's your fault this is still going on, flea. I'd be happy if you just left me alone and stayed outta the city."

"You know I can't do that," Izaya laughed, eyes sparkling playfully. "I love this city. There is so much fun between these skyscrapers."

"Why do you always get involved in my life?" Shizuo asked, sounding exasperated. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Izaya frowned, mulling over the question in his mind. He turned his head back to the ceiling and searched the smoke-stained paint for patterns. Why did he pursue Shizuo so relentlessly?

"Various reasons, I suppose," he answered, slowly. "You're a monster, you don't deserve friends and family and a pleasant life. Your less than an animal, posturing amongst humans and _fitting in._ Like you belong. Like you're one of them. But you're not - you're a beast, a piece of filth that's worth less than the shit on a human's shoe. Such violence should only be rewarded with suffering."

Shizuo stayed silent but the hurt was obvious in his yellow eyes. Izaya _really_ liked it. This was far better than any physical pain he had ever caused.

"And you know something?" Izaya continued, viciously. "Ruining your life makes me _so happy_."

-0-

 _Part Three soon_


End file.
